Smarty Pants Silly Phones; Mooner Solves Voter Fraud


So. I got a phone call from a buddy last night who wanted to schedule a visit to La Casita Johnson de Santa Fe. Since I left my trusty personal assistant, the lovely and charming Mz. Gnat, back to Austin to run our business affairs, I’m required to perform her jobs on my own behalf. Gnat has been with me for over twenty years—a story you can read if you buy my stupid fucking book by clicking over there =====}}} on any of the linksters that mention Full RisingMooner.

I have so many requests for extended-stay visits that I bought a motel software package to handle the reservations and accommodations for my many guests—a task normally performed by Gnat. The software package arrived yesterday afternoon by US Postal’s daily to-your-home delivery system two days after I ordered it.

Which reminds me. Who, inthefuck, would want to kill the United States Postal Service? I mean who other than greedy businessmen who want to privatize it for their own personal gains.

I took my new software program back inside, unwrapped it, glanced at the installation instructions and jammed the round plastic disc into my computer, and began operations. All tasks normally performed by Gnat.

Two hours later, I called Gnat and scheduled her a visit to La Casita Johnson de Santa Fe. I think she can fix the messes I’ve made in my life the last two weeks in New Mexico in a month, or so.

Which reminds me. This entire Voter Registration business is stupid.

S T U P I D !!!

OK, look, I get it that we need to register voters in some fashion in order to prevent the rampant Republican voter fraud perpetrated by the RNC. I get it that we need a way to insure that our One Man, One Vote system of semi-democracy needs to be a system of ones. What I don’t get is why this shit is so fucking difficult. So, I was sitting out to the portal last night with the dogs but not the fucking cat, drinking Carta Blanca beer and smoking a blunt.

For new readers, a portal is a covered patio and mine is a marvelous contraption with jalousied windows on one of the two closed walls and a fireplace on the other, and the long open side looking out over all the flagstone we laid and looking up to New Mexico’s magical sky.

Last night’s sitting was with the nearly full moon hanging over the big Ponderosa pine tree and a vigorous dotting of bright stars. I was stretched out on the wicker couch with Yoda curled up on my chest and the Squirt settled between my legs, head on my crotch. Squirt was staring bullets at me through the haze of pot smoke hanging in the chilly, dead-still air.

“Answer me this, Bwana Mooner. What is all of this hullabaloo about voter registration? Why is this such a big deal?”

I attempted to explain it and she questioned my answers, and all of a sudden the solution came to me. I, Butcher Einstein “Mooner” Johnson, have solved the entire voter registration problem. Here’s the deal, and I call it the “Mooner Johnson Voter Registration Solution”, or MJVRS for short.

Stop. I need a catchier name than that so that its nickname will be catchier more than that silly shit. MJVRS? Really? Maybe you guys will have a better name after you hear my ideas.

OK, first of all, Republicans are all hung up on Photo Ids, like they can pull more underhanded stunts with a picture of the faces of the people they fuck over. Not a problem with whatever it is my solution is named.

Smart people are concerned that the Republican efforts to make it difficult for a huge portion of our population to get registered and then vote are egregious attempts of unmasked bigotry. Once again, not even a problem for, try this—Mooner’s Voter ID Solutions, or MVIDS.

Is MVIDS better than MJVRS?

Here’s how this dealio will work. OK, for starters, every asshole in America—save for me, Streaker Jones and my Gram—have cell phones with 50-gigabite memories and cameras that make a Peeping Tom drool. Next, those same cell phones are connected to the INTERNET and have keypads and special applications and all sorts of other shit.

Sooooooooo, here’s what we do. Ready?

We register Voter Registration Clerks with each county or parish or whateverthefuck they have in each state. Democrats and Republicans and Greenies and all the rest of the parties can register their registrators to be Voter Registration Clerks. Hell, for that matter any church or Moose Lodge or VFW Post can do the same.

Voter Registration Clerks will have their smarty-pants silly phones loaded with an application containing their state’s voter registration form, and a photograph clicker dealie to take a person’s picture with their utility bill or mortgage stuff or whatever.

It cracks me up when Gram says “smarty pants silly phone”. You try to tell her that we call them smart cell phones and see what happens.

Anyway, the applications will contain security thingies to insure that the Voter Registration Clerks can’t pull any funny business, and they will auto-transmit any application back to Headquarters, whether it was completed or not. That way, some shithead can’t cancel or discard a registering voter for any reason.

This way the County will now have a picture of the registered voter with his proof of residence and the application in their hot little hands instana-fucking-taneously. Then when it comes time to vote, a voter can show up with any damned kind of ID. Got a question? Look on the computer and see the voter’s picture.

Am I brilliant, or what?

This solutions shit is easy when you take the time to look at it with a belly full of beer and THC-lacquered lungs.

Maybe next I’ll take a shot at male pattern baldness. Maybe I need to come up with a good name for this current solution. I wonder how much money I can make with this?

Which reminds me of something else. Why do we men dribble a few drops of urine after we finish peeing? It doesn’t matter how many times we shake and squeeze and re-shake, we always dribble. At least I do.

Last night when Yoda the goat dog and I were re-marking our territorial rights to the back yard, Squirt was watching with a keen interest.

“What’s wrong with your pecker, big boy. Your undies are going to be stained something awful.” Then she added, she said to me, “Oh, I get it. Yellow to the front and brown in the back.”

We all three laughed and then wondered where the fucking cat was. Honor has been missing for a week, and I have absolute certainty that is a metaphor for something political.

Manana, y’all.

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5 Responses to “Smarty Pants Silly Phones; Mooner Solves Voter Fraud”

  1. Squatlo says:

    I think a good name for your new voter registration system should be “Jimmy Crack Crow” (and I don’t care…) You’re assuming all wrongly, Mooner-child. First of all, the folks who are disenfranchised by the Republithugs voter suppression voter ID efforts don’t have smarty-pants-silly-phones. If they had smarty pants phones, they’d probably have valid drivers licenses. The thing about poverty is that it tends to limit one’s ability to acquire silly materialistic items like smarty pants phones. I’m not poverty-stricken, by any means, but hell, I CAN’T AFFORD ONE OF THOSE FANCY FUCKING PHONES!

    About the postal service… here’s another thing you might have overlooked in your THC haze (and quite understandable, since you prolly aren’t a member of a labor union) the USPS is the second largest employer in America (2nd only to the merchants of evil who run Walmart). That’s a unionized labor force, and typically one that supports Democratic politicians and their causes with their dues money. So… Republithugs have mandated that the USPS fully fund its retirement pension for 75 years, a requirement not made of any other private business in the world.
    Here’s a good read ’bout it all:

    Getting the USPS to fold would put all of that home delivery into private non-unionized hands, and thus cripple a fund-raising arm of the Democratic Party. There’s the basic explanation for the hostility toward the Postal Service in America.

    Try carrying a letter from my house in Murfreesboro to your portal in Santa Fe for 44 cents or so… I’ll wait.

  2. Squatlo says:

    And one mo’ thang… If BJ and I can figure out a way to swing a trip out to see you and the animals in Santa Fe, we’re coming.

    Get your motel software working, dammit.

  3. Squatlo says:

    BJ says he didn’t let you trash one bedroom of his house for the better part of a week just to get sequestered to a room at the nearest Motel Six, so you might have to build an addition.

  4. Mooner In Austin says:

    Squat. OK, first, it isn’t the disinfranchised who need smart phones–it’s the Voter Registration Clerks! All the registered person needs is proof of residency. I’ll reread my shit here and be sure I made that clear.

    Second, I’m aware of what’s up with the Post Office and that is the one thing I’m pissed at Obama for not fixing. We can’t lose the Post Office.

    Third, talk is cheap, and fourth, bring it on.

  5. Squatlo says:

    You be right, sir! I completely got lost in the haze out there on the portal, snuggled up with pups on my virtual crotch and all.

    Proof of residency, eh? That sounds way too simple, man. Just might work… But how do we get the new Mooner Phase in place in time to save this election? Or even the next one? Things move at a glacial pace these days, and anything involving voter registration gets snarled up in politics before it ever gets out of the box.

    Forgive my miopia. I’m blaming BJ. He’ll know why.

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